LAOS (1) 2009
1304 Kilometres – 28 Days
17
August – 13 September 2009
MAP
Photos
17
August - Bao Lao, Vietnam – Xepon, Laos – 50 Kilometers
The
Vietnam/Laos border crossing came without a great deal of difficulty. All one
needed was an application form, $35 and a photo. Unfortunately, there were no ATMs
on the Laos side and Ernest returned to draw money on the Vietnamese side,
which could then be changed to Lao kip. I didn’t particularly appreciate changing
money at borders as it was a tricky affair and seldom a win-win situation. But,
at least it provided enough local currency to reach Savannakhét, the next
sizable town.
Laos
immediately appeared more laidback, less populated and with fewer motorbikes
than Vietnam. People carried their wares in woven baskets on their backs or
shoulder poles, and friendly kids called “Sapadii, felang”, making me instantly
fall in love with Laos. The first day of riding in Laos came with stunning vistas
and a few hills.
18
August – Sepong (Xepon) – Donghen (Dong Hen) – 133 Kilometers
The
route between Sepong and Donghen was pleasantly undulated past dense forests,
valleys, rivers and waterfalls. Like the previous day, children called, “Sapadii,
falang”, translating to “Hello, foreigner”, from their stilted homes where water
buffalo, goats, chickens and black pigs roamed freely. Our route led past small
villages and Buddhist temples surrounded by rice fields. The air was fresh and
smelled of herbs, cow dung and smoke from charcoal fires, coupled with scenes
of women preparing food on open fires and small children herding cattle
reminded of Africa.
The
rest of the day consisted of overtaking villagers going to the market in basic,
wooden, homemade carts and others in equally minimalistic longboats heading
upriver. Finally, following a hundred and thirty-three kilometres and dodging
chickens, goats and small black pigs an unexpected roadside guesthouse at Dong
Hen rolled into view. This small settlement made a perfect overnight stop.
19
August – Donghen - Savannakhet – 73 Kilometers
The
ride to Savannakhet was lovely, rural, and scenic, with tiny settlements and
roadside markets. It was a pleasure out on the bike. The slight breeze was barely
enough to cool us down, and I sweated buckets. Upon arrival in Savannakhet, time
remained to find accommodation at a leisurely pace. Before unpacking, Ernest searched
for bike spares, but to no avail.
With
a large section of the population being Buddhist, finding vegetarian food was
easier than in Vietnam. I used this luxury well and found a decent plate of
food at a pittance. Sticky rice seemed the staple and was eaten with each meal.
Rice boiled in a banana leaf was also popular.
Once
again, I bought a SIM card, but, as was the case in Vietnam, one could send
SMSs but not receive any.
20-21
August - Savannakhet
Savannakhet
was a maze of crumbling French colonial buildings and old Buddhist temples. But,
as always, sunset was the best time to be out, and people sat outside eating
from roadside stalls while old men played board games and kids ran amok.
Hundreds of food carts lined the river frontage and villagers sat on
kindergarten chairs, chatting and watching the sunset over the Mekong River.
Being
Buddhist “Lent” we woke to the sound of gongs and monks chanting prayers, a
wonderfully peaceful way to start one’s day. There seemed even more than the
usual amount of street food available. It was a novelty sampling all the
strange and delicious dishes.
Ernest
spent a considerable part of the day fiddling with his bike, which was in
constant need of attention.
22 August - Savannakhet –
Tha Khaek – 131 Kilometers
After
an additional day in Savannakhet, the time came to start heading north. The
slightly hilly route came with a cloud cover, making comfortable riding. Lunch
was noodle soup from a mobile cart, and I could’ve sworn it contained frog
legs, but then one never knows what ingredients are in the dish.
23
August - Tha Khaek
A
day of leisure was spent in Tha Khaek (Thakhaek). Although there were
interesting caves nearby, Ernest was uninterested in visiting them. So instead of
dragging him along, I hopped on a tuk-tuk to investigate these caves.
Afterwards, I did my laundry and chatted to kind monks at temples. Tha Khaek
was a lovely little village with a riverside setting, old French-built
buildings and quaint restaurant/coffee shops. All this made pleasant meandering
along the riverfront, watching men fish in longtail boats and ladies peddling
wovenware from shoulder poles.
By
evening, I got a takeaway pizza and beer. I enjoyed my food overlooking the
Mekong River with Thailand across the opposite bank. Like a true South African,
Ernest found it difficult to walk past anything resembling a barbeque. To his
surprise, he found not chops and sausage but pig intestines and a bowl of
crickets.
24
August - Tha Khaek - Vieng Kham - 107 Kilometers
Ernest
and I, parted ways and, in the morning, I continued with an immense sense of
freedom. The first few kilometres followed the “Great Wall of Lao”. This
kilometres-long Kamphaeng Nyak wall was a geological phenomenon caused by
fissures. Still, its physical resemblance to a human-made structure led to many
Lao myths about its origin. Based upon legend, the wall was an animal trap
built by ancient giant-like people. Others say it was made as a defence system,
and some guessed the wall was used to stem floodwaters from the Mekong.
I
felt good following a day of rest, but the euphoria didn’t last long. Shortly beyond
The Great Wall, my front wheel started wobbling like an eggbeater. The damaged hub
made going in a straight line downright challenging.
Being
a rural part of Laos I wobbled past ladies tending cattle or driving goats to
better feeding grounds. As has become the norm, the road continued past modest
Buddhist temples and kids on bicycles who found it the highlight of their day
to give chase.
A
bizarre roadside market sold enormous cockroaches, dried frogs, grilled
squirrels and cut-up monitor lizards. Seeing lizard feet on a plate made me uncomfortable.
A
hundred and seven kilometres and seven hours later (cycling time, not including
stopping), I finally crawled into Vieng Kham, completely exhausted.
Lo
and behold, would Ernest not be at the same guesthouse. It was probably not unusual
as the guesthouse was practically the only place to stay within a stretch of
200 kilometres. None were thrilled to see the other, but I was too exhausted to
care. Never a dull moment.
25
August - Vieng Kham
In
the morning, I looked around for a new front hub but only found an old, rusty,
second-hand one, probably from the 1800s. Ernest must’ve had a plan up his
sleeve as he offered to fit the hub and spent the best part of the day doing so.
I knew this would cost me later, as he needed new bike parts, but I’d little
choice and accepted his offer.
26 August - Vieng Kham –
Pakxan – 92 Kilometers
I
was as happy as the proverbial pig as my bike ran like a dream compared to my
previous ride. Unfortunately, Ernest struggled with limited gears. Hopefully,
all could be repaired in Vientiane, a hundred and fifty kilometres away.
The
views were sublime, and no wonder the area was such a popular travelling destination.
The stretch of road between Vientiane and Savannakhét formed part of the “Golden
Triangle”. We thus encountered several motorbikes, moving slightly faster than
us.
Almost
halfway to Pakxan was the Kading River, a large tributary of the Mekong. The road
crossed at the confluence of the two rivers via a Russian-built bridge commemorating
the first person in space. Yuri Gagarin, a Soviet pilot and cosmonaut, was the
first human to journey into outer space when his Vostok spacecraft completed an
orbit of Earth on 12 April 1961. What a brave man and a true explorer.
The
river was a popular stopping place for superstitious truck drivers who would light
a cigarette before crossing the bridge. Once lit, they would toss the burning
cigarette into the river below, to appease the legendary water serpent believed
to live in the river mouth.
27
August - Pakxan – Pak Ngum – 90 Kilometers
From
Pakxan to Pak Ngum was a lazy day of cycling, accompanied by two-wheeled
tractors (for lack of a better word) pulling homemade wooden carts, loaded with
jovial ladies in conical hats. Scores of “Sapadee, falang” came from children and
small villages and Buddhist temples jutted out of the forest around every
corner. Even though kids were super friendly, they would run to the safety of
their mother’s apron as soon as one stopped to take a picture. Others would
stand stock-still, allowing one to take a picture, and then shyly retreated to
their homes.
Our
path followed the Mekong River; from time to time the route ran flush next to
the river, and at times veered inland, only to meet up with the river a few kilometres
further. Water buffalo enjoyed the abundance of water and villagers sold smoked
fish and other delicacies at roadside markets.
28-31
August - Pak Ngum – Vientiane - 70 Kilometers
It
didn’t take long to get to Laos’s capital, and Vientiane was one of the most
accessible capital cities by bicycle. We pedalled straight to the bike shop to inquire
about Ernest’s all-important spare parts - only to find the shop locked. Neighbours
told us the owner was away in Thailand and would return after the weekend. First
thing Monday morning, we returned to the shop, but still, it was closed. This
time, neighbours informed the owner would be back the next day.
Waiting
wasn’t all bad, as walking the streets of Vientiane was pleasant. Touristy
shops sold beautiful handmade jewellery and silk items, and the lack of rip-offs
and touts made relaxing exploring. The river frontage came alive at sunset whilst
an aroma of barbequed meat filled the air.
1-4
September – Vientiane
The
following day, the bike shop was open and I bought a new hub which Ernest insisted
on fitting. I preferred the bike shop to do the work as it usually worked out
less expensive. The chainring Ernest required needed to be ordered from
Thailand and would take a few days, and I handed my bike in for a service.
From
Vientiane, plans were to cycle toward China, and we thus visited the Chinese consulate.
The visa application seemed far too easy as the single requirement was a simple
application form, and instructions to return in three days to collect the visas.
Amazingly, it appeared I’d a Chinese visa, but I felt like the proverbial dog
not quite sure what to do with it.
In
the meantime, Ernest and I sought less pricey accommodation, as Vientiane would
be home at least three more days. While investigating the city, I found the “Blue
Banana” pub/restaurant, with air-con and Wi-Fi. There one could sit all day
drinking a cold beer (over ice - the strange things people do) and watch the
world go by.
Vientiane
must’ve been the world’s most laidback capital. It was so laidback quite a few
Western bums were hanging around. They resembled old-time hippies, stuck in
time and out of luck, bumming from travellers with sad stories of money stolen
and late pension payments.
5
September - Vientiane – Hin Hoeup – 102 Kilometers
With
bikes fixed and Chinese visas in our passports, we left Vientiane, which then
felt like home. The way north was picturesque, albeit with a little taste of
the hills to come.
I
watched in horror as a traditional cockfight took place. Even though gambling
was illegal in Laos, villagers regularly organised these fights. The fight was
a bloody and messy affair as roosters fought to the death for cash prizes.
6
September - Hin Hoeup - Vang Vieng – 65 Kilometers
From
Hin Hoeup to Vang Vieng was a short but hot and hilly ride. The landscape was; nevertheless,
jaw-droppingly beautiful. Vang Vieng, known as “Chill Out Town” had the most
scenic location any village could hope for. Situated along the banks of the
Song River and surrounded by stunning limestone cliffs, it explains why Vang
Vieng was such a trendy backpacker hangout.
7-8
September - Vang Vien – Kasi – - Phou Khoun - 100 Kilometers
The
route to Kasi was even shorter than the day before but hillier. Ernest had his
fair share of bike problems but did the necessary roadside repairs.
The
path climbed up over mountains and past numerous hill tribe villages. Stunning vistas
continued, and Kasi was reached around 14h00, and made an excellent place to
stay the night. Our early stop gave us plenty of time to sort out the bikes
(hopefully, once and for all) and go to the market. Ernest bought himself a
decent-sized buffalo steak at a low price. At the same time, I stuck to my usual
noodles to which I added tofu purchased at the market.
The
large grapefruit bought proved disappointing, hard as a rock and exceptionally
dry. As with nearly all the fruit in the region, it’s eaten sprinkled with a
combination of salt and chilly.
9
September - Phou Khoun - Xiang Ngeun – 106 Kilometers
The
day consisted of a slow, hard slog up many mountains. Hills were steep and long,
and we encountered at least two long climbs, one of twenty and fifteen kilometres,
which took forever on our loaded bikes. We wheezed our way up the steep
inclines and five kilometres an hour was about the average speed but, where
there’s an up there must be a down!
Once
in Xiang Ngeum, I couldn’t face cycling up one more hill, and even though Luang
Prabang was a mere twenty-five kilometres away, I couldn’t be moved. The room
was small, hot and windowless, but I took it anyhow as there were no other
options in this tiny settlement.
10
September - Xiang Ngeun - Luang Prabang – 25 Kilometers
The
following morning, we emerged at 5.30 to chickens’ clucking and found the
morning market in full swing right upon our doorstep.
Following
a short twenty-five-kilometre ride and only one hill, our path reached Luang
Prabang. Luang Prabang looked like a fabulous place to investigate. Still,
Ernest’s excuse was his concern about getting to the border in time and didn’t want
to linger.
11
September - Luang Prabang – Pak Mong – 115 Kilometers
The
road followed the Mekong much of the morning, and even though still with sharp
ups and downs, there were no monster hills like the previous days. The scenery
stayed inspiring as the route took us past many tribal villages where weaving
and spinning yarn was the most important business, and which villagers washed
and dried by the roadside. I was more than happy to arrive in Pak Mong where
one could bed down.
12
September - Pak Mong – Oudom Xai – 85 Kilometers
The
monster hills returned and accompanied by pelting rain, made exhausting riding.
Our path became a muddy mess with massive potholes, a problem not just for cyclists,
but all vehicles found the going challenging. Trucks becoming stuck, and
motorbikes slipping and sliding were par for the course.
I
was delighted to roll into Oudom Xai and have a warm shower and a bite to eat. By
then it felt all I did was cycle and eat. At least on top of each hill was,
what Ernest called, the “Welcome Committee”, hordes of children calling “Saibaidee,
falang” with great enthusiasm as we approached.
13
September - Oudom Xai – Nateuy – 80 Kilometers
From
Oudom Xia, the path let straight up the mountain, and another hard day of cycling
prevailed, with hills, rain, roadwork, potholes and mud. While a slow slog the
landscape remained scenic past indigenous villages and more friendly kids.
Mercifully,
Oudom Xai sported a guesthouse opposite the market where Ernest bought dried
buffalo meat, the closest thing to biltong he would find in that part of the
world. Also at the guesthouse were two other cyclists. They were on their way
south after spending two months in China. They weren’t feeling well, and were
planning on taking a bus to Luang Prabang. It sounded a great deal more sensible
than pushing on whilst not feeling well.
14
September – Nateuy, Laos– Mengla, China – 72 Kilometers
A
short twenty-kilometre ride led up a moderate hill to the border followed by a
smooth crossing into China. Once across the border, the ATM was more guesswork
than anything else, as the machine never gave an option to choose English. In
the end, it spat out a few Chinese yuan, and I was bursting with excitement to discover
China.
A
brand-new highway, with bridges and tunnels, ran to Mengla through an exceedingly
picturesque countryside. Bike problems made cycling increasingly tricky, and
stomach problems placed a damper on my new find excitement. Thank goodness, the
road descended from the border to the first town in China.
At
first glance, China was nothing like expected and Mengla was a modern and
fast-growing border town and not very “Chinese”. I’m not sure what I’d envisaged
as “very Chinese”. My first day in China wasn’t a good one. I was extremely
relieved to find accommodation to lay down and spent the evening shivering
under a blanket with a high fever.
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